


Introspection

by BluntHarpoon



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Ohana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BluntHarpoon/pseuds/BluntHarpoon
Summary: Just another brief coda spanning finale of season 1 through season 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New writer here. Any encouragement, suggestions, and constructive criticism from you fine people is greatly appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading.  
> Also, I've been defeated by the text editor and if anyone can help me make this thing more readable, I'll really appreciate it.

It had been close to a week since he was hit by a car while in pursuit of that bastard Vonakov. He had been to the dentist, who fitted him for a crown. The chipped tooth made eating and talking chores, so it was a good thing he was not forced to interact with anyone. His cracked ribs did not make their presence known unless he breathed. Good thing he could hold his breath for long periods of time, he thought wryly.

For the first couple of days, after he was sent home with instructions and painkillers and antibiotics, Danny also tagged along as part of the care package. He could not care less as he spent most of his time asleep. Day 3 was the beginning of a Grace weekend and Danny brought her with him from school. Gracie made everything better so there he was, snorkeling with her and showing her how to stand on a surfboard, although truth was, his lanky form was not conducive to surfing. Despite his reputation as someone who defied the laws of physics, and nature, stated by Danny as an accusation and a character flaw, there were things that did not come as naturally to him as he’d wished, and surfing had always been one of those. He was a better surfer when he was a little kid and that was a damn shame. Mary was a better surfer. Hell, Danny the proud mainlander was a better surfer, thanks to his tiny, compact frame. While it had never stopped him from being a total boss at surfing, his opinion, or a wave-stealing-bastard – Danny’s assertion, today he did not want to wipe out. There was a good chance that wiping out would hurt not just his ego, but his aching ribs and other body parts that were in the freak collision with a motorist. And the way he was feeling, his chances of wiping out were high even in the absence of even half decent swells.

After a couple of hours of playing with the little girl, his energy was waning, and the headache was coming back with a vengeance, as was nausea. Lingering effects of his newest high-velocity impact with asphalt, his second concussion in as many months, were telling him to stop now or suffer the consequences later once his guests had departed. He really, really, really did not want to throw up, for two reasons. Okay, three. First, his ribs would protest very loudly and painfully if he threw up; second, eating was a chore and it was not easy, and he could not lose what little he had eaten, and last and perhaps the most important reason was, Danny would yell and worry and rant and worry some more. He was informed in the most emphatic terms that he was not allowed to worry Danny for another 6 months at least. Last 3 months had aged Danny by ten years.

It was time to go inside, wash up, put on clean clothes, pop a couple of Ibuprofen, drink the rest of the smoothie from his lunch before Danny started giving him grief, and set up the grill.


	2. More of the same...

It also turned out to be a session in introspection.

Danny apparently had booked the poor driver for driving at 30 mph in a 20 mph zone, which was hypocritical of him as he had informed Steve in no uncertain terms since, according to Danny, Steve usually saw speed limit as more of a suggestion than an actual law. Again, Danny’s words, not his.

Last few months had been hard on him. Being duped was not something he was comfortable with, nor was he supposed to let his emotions get the better of him. And yet, twice in little over three months, he had been duped by people he trusted and then landed in a heap of crap because he let his emotions cloud his judgment and training.

He knew the governor was not what she claimed to be, and he knew she was playing some kind of game, but his complacency or emotions or success or whatever had resulted in him confronting her in her office like even an immature operative wouldn’t. Not closing the door behind him, not expecting to have anyone come from behind him, these were the kinds of mistakes that nobody lived to talk about in his line of work. Getting so emotionally worked up that he stopped seeing straight was not how he had cultivated his hard-earned reputation as one of the baddest badasses out there.

The shiv wound had gotten infected, predictably, and had laid him up for a couple of weeks. Hesse had died, good riddance, but his death still was not any form of consolation because, for all intents and purposes, he was just a puppet. Not even a gun for hire. Wo Fat had played a really long game and had played Steve like a two-dollar banjo, killing his best friend, his father, getting him to quit the Navy and leave the trail he was on, getting him under the direct supervision of Jameson…

The list was long and embarrassing. But he also was a realist, who never dwelled on the past and he was proud of the work he and his team had done in the past year and a half. He may not have thought that he had traded up when he started but he definitely hadn’t traded down, considering the amazing teammates he was surrounded by and worked with.

The point was to learn from his mistakes, which he was still not sure he had started. He took in Jenna and made her a part of his family and what happened in North Korea, how she was duped just like Jameson, Hesse brothers, and Noshimuris still made him feel sorry for her. How she used him stung. He was badly hurt physically and was still suffering from the lingering effects of that little jaunt, as was obvious from persistent insomnia, loss of appetite, and a resultant, somewhat drastic weight loss. He was still angry at himself for letting his emotions cloud his judgment and training when she pulled the gun at him. Had he not been so shocked, Wo Fat wouldn’t have gotten the drop on him. There was no question about it.

He always thought he had a good handle on showing what these last few months had done to him, but his body was betraying him, as was noted on different occasions by all of his teammates. He was asked to defer his reserve drills because of his weight loss. He needed to gain it back before he could go out again.

The truth was when Jenna pulled his gun on him, he froze. He was just so tired of all the betrayals, and here, now, this woman he agreed to help had handed him to Wo Fat. The hit to the head was a blessing perhaps, or he may have killed Jenna there and then. It did not reduce the guilt, but at least he hadn’t killed her. If that was a consolation at all since he did not save her either. He could not even save himself, for that matter. But his team, his _Ohana_ , had come through, again.

This rollercoaster of emotions was a new thing for him. He was a man of action. He _did_ things. Doing things changed things. Feelings hardly ever got anyone anywhere. They only caused despair. And he was not that guy.

Five-O was working like a well-oiled machine, they were all back together, Lori was gone, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was time to get his head out of his ass and stop floundering like a noob who was thrown into the deep end.

It was time to get some answers and do it dispassionately. It was time to channel all the pent-up guilt and rage into something that would give him purpose.

It was time to find out what/who the hell was Shelburne.


End file.
